


Stars

by NancyBrown



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Taken By The Rift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:38:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1303534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyBrown/pseuds/NancyBrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Ianto are stuck on an alien world together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ajlenova](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ajlenova).



> For AJLenova, who requested fic for the prompt, "Fire by Fire" by the Scissor Sisters. Happy birthday!!

Like oh so many of his less than logical decisions, the ones he rotated like flawed jewels in his mind years after the ruin shards lay scattered at his feet, Ianto's choice to follow Jack through the transmat had seemed like a good idea at the time. At that split-second, the decision had seemed his only option. Perhaps he'd been thinking too much about Jack's previous disappearance courtesy of a time machine. Perhaps he'd been experiencing more than a touch of apprehension and worry, unsure that Jack's return was permanent, concern that his attention to Ianto or even to Earth was nothing more than a hummingbird attraction. Perhaps he'd said, only loud enough for the ghosts hounding his steps to hear, "I'm not losing you again." Nevertheless, follow Jack he had, and so too had he rematerialised aboard the starship which, bare minutes later, had belched them both here onto this alien world.

Perhaps the next time he had a similar choice in front of him, concussing Jack with a pistol butt would be easier. 

"Here," Jack said, plopping down beside him like a rag bag tossed to the ground. He held out a very small portion of what was very nearly bread, which had been divided into two smaller pieces.

Ianto hesitated only a moment before seizing the larger bit. He forced himself to break off tiny bites and chew. He'd learned long ago how to trick his stomach into believing he fed himself a larger meal. "Thank you."

Jack didn't reply, just popped his share into his mouth, chewing and swallowing with his typical lack of self-consciousness which hovered between devil-may-care and outright rude. Ianto offered him the last nibble of his food which Jack waved away. His metabolism wasn't any happier at short rations, but he'd heal from damage brought on by starvation. Perhaps he wouldn't be on the edge of starving had Ianto not followed him here. Perhaps he'd have found a way home already.

Tricking his stomach did nothing for the constant knots Ianto managed to tie it into.

He didn't ask if Jack had any news, either of their target or of a means for getting home. They'd lived here, eking out what was not quite an existence, for over two months. Jack spoke one of the several languages local to this world, this alien city, but one only known to the migrants and the poor. They were the wrong shape, the wrong species, the wrong class. Ianto couldn't say much more than "hello" and "food, please." Jack could speak enough to help them both find the occasional back-breaking day of labour, and could trade those meagre earnings for one of the few foodstuffs sold here that didn't make either violently ill. They lived on the streets, the stars in the bright local cluster visible over the dim lights in the public spaces this far deep into the poorest areas of the city. Sunlight was too precious of a commodity, blocked out by the huge buildings scraping the ceiling of the sky, but the meanest of them still got stars.

"Hey," said Jack, waving a hand in front of him. "No fainting from hunger."

"Just ruminating."

Jack lay his head against the wall. Even here, in a grimy alleyway that reeked of what Ianto could only imagine was alien urine, and grimy from weeks between baths, Jack looked put-together, restful, and -- Ianto had to admit -- attractive as hell. God alone knew how _he_ looked, or smelled, in the same condition but minus Jack's supernatural charm. Instinctively, Ianto curled away, only to be stopped by an outstretched arm drawing him back.

Jack said, "I may have a bead on our target. I got us a job lined up for the morning. It takes us into the northeast section of the city." Ianto had never been. Everyone required documentation to travel from section to section. Two stragglers without identification or money had no chance of moving around except by work passes.

"You think he's there?"

"There's a good chance. I've been hearing rumours his species congregates in that section."

This whole mad situation had been sparked off by yet another of Cardiff's resident arsehole aliens. This one had stolen some items from the local history museum, artefacts Jack hadn't paid much attention to after determining they'd been broken junk. Torchwood would have let the blighter go with a warning, had he not grabbed a child as a hostage. He'd seized the kid, and called up a transmat beam for a getaway, and Jack had given chase. No question as to why. One look at Gwen's pleading face and of course he'd given in. But Gwen hadn't been the one to follow him, but had instead stood back as the fucking arsehole alien had tossed the child back towards her just as the beam whisked the three of them away.

Find that alien, maybe find a way home. "He has to know where we are," Jack reasoned, staring up at the same stars Ianto had been admiring. "I think we can strike a deal to get home."

"If he's there. If he knows."

"Yeah."

They had between them one blanket, a crinkly Mylar-like covering which kept them warm. Jack had stood in line for hours at a shelter run by cat-nuns to obtain it. He wrapped the uncomfortable yet warm fabric around them both now. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be here soon enough, and we'll see."

Jack leaned in for a kiss, which Ianto returned with passion, a little worried, a little desperate. The thought of perhaps getting home was overwhelmed by the near-certainty this was another dead end, another waiting disappointment. Jack remained his sole constant here out amongst the cold, hungry stars. Despite his personal hygiene misgivings of a few minutes before, Ianto wanted nothing more at this moment than to touch the warmth that was Jack's personal radiant starlight.

"I could have sworn I just suggested sleep," Jack admonished, not at all upset by Ianto's sudden amorous overtures.

Around more kisses, Ianto said, "Weren't you the one who got me into your bunk by pointing out sex is a great way to get to sleep?"

"No, that was you." Jack smiled fully under the kisses now. "Told me you had insomnia."

"Did I?" asked Ianto with mock forgetfulness. His hands found what they were searching for, reaching under the filthy waistband of Jack's trousers to find warm, hard flesh. Jack gasped into his mouth with appreciation as Ianto began stroking.

They'd only just resumed their relationship when this had happened. A few false starts had hindered them, with an awkward conversation about the little Jack could tell him regarding his time away and Ianto's stilted confession about his attempts at dating during that hiatus. They'd only gone to bed the once, following an abbreviated date with dinner and a film neither remembered. The sex had been more memorable, full of happy rediscovery, and was followed by the kind of lingering, lazy morning that Ianto had thought he'd never have with anyone again.

"I'd like to lay you out," Ianto said, keeping the rhythm of his hand's motion. "Spread you wide on that new duvet, and lick your entire body from head to toe."

Jack's breath hitched. "You have my full attention." Ianto gave his cock a squeeze, ensuring that to be the case.

"I'd kiss you everywhere, then roll you over onto your stomach. I've got some oils I found, fragrant and warming." He paused. Jack had introduced him to a few of these early on, coating and stroking his cock with lotions and gels which burned deliciously with every movement of Jack's hands. "I'd pour some onto your back, and give your shoulders a deep massage."

Jack's eyes were closed, clearly enjoying the picture. Without hesitation, his own hands found Ianto's body under the thin blanket, and divested him of his trousers down to his knees. They sat next to one another, hands firmly working one other's pricks.

"Tell me more," said Jack, sneaking in a demanding kiss.

"Mmm," Ianto said, enjoying the harsh scrape of Jack's rough hands. He hadn't died on this world, and his hands were growing calluses which rubbed just right as Jack massaged the flesh of his foreskin. Tomorrow he might be killed, and his hands would come back baby-soft and baby-smooth, ghosting over Ianto's dick with a silken strength. "Hadn't thought much beyond the massage."

"You're telling me you'd strip me naked, climb onto my legs and rub oil all over me, but you don't know what to do next?" His hand teased more, fingertips stroking down the large vein before dancing up again.

"I could cover you with fluffy towels and read poetry to you."

Jack snorted. Ianto kept his face impassive, only the faintest smile escaping. "I forgot. We're also surrounded by scented candles."

This drew a full laugh from Jack, which turned instantly to musing. "I have some ideas for those, now that you mention it."

Ianto grimaced. "No hot wax."

"I was thinking more functional uses." His hand released and moved from stroking to seeking, nudging deeper inside Ianto's trousers, past his balls, and poking playfully. Ianto gasped, then glowered.

"The candles I was thinking of were the squat, fat kind."

Jack grinned hugely. "Even more fun." For a second, the mental image of a delicately tapered wax candle sliding inside of him was replaced by the thought of a thick wax column like those in a cathedral.

Ianto was regretting this line of conversation, and meant to say so right as Jack ducked his head under the crinkly blanket and took Ianto's cock entirely into his mouth. He set up a steady pressure, sucking and working his head and hand, the other hand continuing to play but not penetrate. Ianto's head thunked back against the wall, which hurt quite a bit. He would worry about that later.

He worried more about the slumped shapes huddled not very far away from them. Many aliens lived on these same streets, in this same squalor. Although Ianto was willing to give, and receive, a hand job under the cover of the blanket, having some unearthly creature watch dully as Jack blew him was outside of his comfort zone.

He stroked the bump of Jack's head under the blanket. "Jack, you should stop."

Jack made a muffled, and pleasantly vibrating, negative sound.

"We're being watched by our neighbours."

He should have known this would not have the intended effect. The sucking intensified. Ianto dropped his gaze to his lap, to the filthy ground, to anything but the curious stares of aliens right over there. His cheeks flushed cherry red as the pleasure built in his bollocks. He was going to come, and they were going to watch, and this was....

Jack popped out with a noise, and climbed back out from under the blanket. "Maybe you're right."

Ianto, teetering on the edge, hissed, "You bastard."

Jack smirked. "We should get some sleep. It's already tomorrow."

Frustrated, Ianto went under the blanket and took himself in hand. Jack's hand covered his, stopping him. "You shouldn't do that. People watching and all."

"I'm being punished."

"Little bit."

"For not finishing the story?"

"So. Massage. Candles and poetry optional."

Ianto stared at him. "No candles. I threw the poetry book out the window."

"That's no way to treat a book."

"Then I oil myself up and bugger you until I'm done with you."

"Let's go back to the poetry," said Jack. Before Ianto could say anything, the hand covering his began moving at just the right pace. "There was a young man from Old Splott."

Fortunately, he stopped speaking and continued stroking. It didn't take long for Ianto to come, twitching and delirious with lust. Jack's expert hand caught almost all his ejaculate, sparing the one set of clothing Ianto owned from the stains. "Better?"

"Apology accepted," said Ianto, leaning back against the wall to catch his breath. He was aware of Jack's arousal, still interested and poking up proudly as a silvery tent in their blanket. In a moment, when he'd rested, Ianto would be happy to duck under there himself. If he couldn't see the aliens, he wouldn't have to think about the aliens, and his mouth could be kind enough to save Jack's trousers in return.

The aliens, no longer interested in what the two humans were doing, returned to their own miserable pursuits. The stars, radiant above them, kept their own disinterested watch. No-one cared what they did here, if they fucked or died, or both. They were just two lost people, screwing in an alley. He might as well be back in Cardiff. Ianto puffed out a laugh.

"What?"

"Nothing." He lifted the edge of the blanket and drew it over his head.


End file.
